Chapter 9 #2
They arrived at his nest. Vale placed her in the center, watching her slick, flushed body squirm against the furs.
What was he supposed to do with all this want?
He had never craved like this; he was sure of it.
Maybe that was another reason why he had been delaying this spell: with nothing to hold him back, his desire could grow even more.
He did not want it to. He had duties to perform and a void to save. He did not have time to rut a mortal senseless, especially when her pollen-sickness was fading.
Vale straightened, adjusting his robes over his spent cock.
“I will be back soon,” he promised.
His Anderfel brother’s home was… strange.
It was dark, like he expected. But this darkness was nothing he had seen in the mortal realm. This felt like a void, even though he was sure he had stepped into the mortal realm when he used the silver pool. Had it sent him to the wrong place?
There was a speck of light in the distance. Vale stepped toward it, the darkness so thick it clung to his robes as he walked. The shadows stunk of sulfur, and Vale growled in displeasure.
“Oh, good,” came a quiet, raspy voice from the light ahead. “I thought it was the small one again, come to beg for a companion.”
“Who?” Vale asked, unable to stop himself.
“The small one,” the voice repeated. “With purple eyes. He lives not far from here. He keeps coming to ask me to help him get a wife.”
“A wife,” Vale repeated, a memory stirring in his head: a young Skullstalker kneeling in front of Slate, sounding dejected as Slate declined him.
“Or a husband,” the voice continued. “He is not fussy. Come closer. My eyes are not what they were.”
Vale approached slowly, squinting into the light. After another few steps, a figure became clear.
The Skullstalker was old. So old it confused Vale, who had always thought that Slate was the oldest of them all.
This creature’s skin sagged, and his skull mask was chipped with age.
Instead of glowing, his eyes were grey and cloudy.
The old Skullstalker bared his teeth, showing several missing fangs.
It took Vale a moment to realize he was not being threatened; this was a smile.
“You are new,” the Skullstalker said happily. “It is good to meet you.”
“You as well,” said Vale cautiously. “My brothers insist you can help me.”
The Skullstalker shrugged, such an odd movement from a Skullstalker that it shocked Vale into silence.
“I will do my best,” said the Skullstalker humbly. “Come, come. Tell me your woes.”
He turned. Vale followed him, his claws fully extended. Slate had assured Vale he could trust this stranger, but how could he when even Slate did not know his name after all this time?
A cave appeared through the shadows, huge and looming. The Skullstalker hobbled calmly into it, then turned back to face him.
“You came here because you need something,” said the Skullstalker. “That is the only reason any soul visits me. That, or to tell me what has become of them after I sent them away the first time.”
“What has become of them?”
The Skullstalker smiled again. “It is the one thing I require. If I help you, you must come back and tell me what happened because of my assistance. I am attached to my cave, but I get so little entertainment here.”
Vale eyed him warily. This was perhaps the strangest Skullstalker he had ever met. Then again, he had not met many. They were a solitary species.
“So,” the Skullstalker continued. “What would you wish of me? Let me guess… your size has become a problem with your mortal paramour?"
“One of many,” Vale said. “But not the most pressing.”
“Oh?” The Skullstalker’s cloudy eyes glinted. “Well. Let us get that taken care of, and then we can move on.”
He limped over to the wall of the cave and lifted a jar of black oil off a shelf.
“What must be done?” Vale asked.
The Skullstalker shushed him, dipping a clawed finger into the black oil and reaching for Vale’s face.
Vale jerked back instinctually with a snarl.
“I only mean to help,” the Skullstalker assured him. He raised his dripping claw again.
Vale forced himself to calm. Even tired as he was, he could still rip this old Skullstalker in two with little effort.
He stilled. The Skullstalker ran his wet claw over Vale’s skull, tracing patterns that Vale did not understand. After a brief pause to run two dark slashes down his collarbones, he pricked his thumb. Then he pricked Vale’s, dripping their combined blood into the jar of oil.
He dipped his claw back in and drew one drop on Vale’s lower lip.
Vale eyed him distrustfully. “It is almost done?”
“Almost,” the Skullstalker said.
With that, he bowed his head and started to chant.
Vale did not recognize the words. But unlike the symbols, these words awakened some strange awareness in him. Like something he had heard when he was very small.
His groin began to tingle. The tingle soon expanded, filling Vale until the tip of his tail vibrated with the spell. Then all at once it was over, leaving Vale shaking and gasping, curling over as his vision tunneled.
The Skullstalker patted his back. “There, there, little brother. You will find no more pesky size problems with your lover. Now, tell me about this other problem.”
Vale braced himself against the cave wall. He did not like this strange Skullstalker touching him like they knew each other, though he forced himself to tolerate it. He was helping, after all.
Vale forced himself to straighten, his legs still trembling and his head spinning. “My void… it has been poisoned. Do you know how to fix it?”
The Skullstalker blinked, surprised. He reached a gaunt hand out to touch Vale’s chest, and Vale gritted his fangs through an unwanted touch from someone he did not know. He would put up with much worse if it meant fixing his void.
“You have a deeper relationship with your void than any of our surviving brothers,” the Skullstalker said, pulling his hand back. “What has your void told you?”
“It tells me nothing! It only urges me to continue my everyday duties, and insists—” Vale stopped, his mind full of images of his mortal offering.
“Insists?” the Skullstalker prompted.
“There is a mortal who… started it all. She did not mean to. But my void insists she can help.”
“If she is the one who started it all,” the Skullstalker began.
Vale growled, talking over him. “But she does not KNOW how she started it! Perhaps she can help. Or perhaps my void is lacking judgment! It is old. Older than me. It did not give me back my light-motes. It imprinted on a mortal the second she entered—”
“Then push her out.”
Vale faltered. “What?”
“Remove her from your void,” the Skullstalker explained, wiping black oil on the cave wall behind him. “If the void improves, then she is the problem.”
Vale paused. He had the same thought, once. Of course, he had. But…
“The void would tell me if she was the problem,” Vale said. “If she were the poison… If she were making us sick, then it would force her out.”
“Would it?” the Skullstalker asked, hobbling over to the shelf and placing the jar of black oil in its place. “You do not sound like you trust its judgment.”
Vale swallowed. He felt guilty in a way he had not felt since the light-motes died, somehow sure that it was his fault. That if he had worked harder, he could have saved them.
“The mortal has a good heart,” he tried. “She is dedicated and hardworking, even if she gets into trouble. She would be good for the void, if it were not sick.”
“I am not saying to banish her forever,” the Skullstalker said, straightening the other jars on the black-splattered shelf. “Just put her out. If the void continues to sicken, you can do what you wish. But if the void improves… well, then. It would be good if you threw her out.”
Vale said nothing. He had wished to banish her, not so long ago.
But not after these last weeks. Not after he had seen how hard she worked, how fascinated she was by the plants he used to love so much.
Not after tasting her, filling her, curling around her in his nest. She looked at him with such surprise whenever he allowed himself to touch her gently.
There was a part of him that he did not know existed, a part of him that wanted…
Vale forced the thought away and wiped the remaining black oil off his skull mask.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “You have given me much to think about. I will take my leave.”
He turned to leave, only stumbling once before righting himself and walking out of the cave.
The Skullstalker’s quiet voice called after him through the dark. “Come back when it is finished. This sounds like a story I wish to hear more of.”
Ivy was asleep when he returned.
Vale watched her chest rise and fall, his tail lashing mightily behind him. He would not get to test the Skullstalker’s size spell after all. If this worked, Ivy’s departure would fix everything.
This is what you must do, he told himself. Do not hesitate.
But he did not move. He noticed there were vines. Strange vines covered in dark leaves, twining up her legs and threading through her wild red hair.
Vale growled. “What is your obsession with this mortal? She must go. If it works, then you are cured. If it does not, I will bring her back. You can rot and die with your precious mortal inside you.”
Ivy stirred. But she did not wake, too tired from their coupling earlier. She smelled sweaty and sore and satisfied, her scent filling Vale’s nose like the sweetest temptation he had ever known.
He had never been tempted until she showed up. Maybe it would be better if she never came back.
The thought sent a river of pain through him. And something else.
You want her to stay, too, whispered the void.
Vale’s claws pricked into his palms. “It does not matter what I want. I do what is best for you. For both of us.”
He stood a moment longer, watching the leaves curl around Ivy’s soft face. Then he leaned down.